


Insanity

by tigs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:59:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigs/pseuds/tigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This Sheppard isn't laughing, though. [McKay, Sheppard. PG. Earth!fic, set during Intruder.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insanity

There are things that Rodney expects to see when he walks into labs, be they on Earth or in Atlantis. 

Multi-million dollar pieces of equipment, for instance, doing whatever it is that they’ve been built to do, complete with all associated blinking lights and intermittent beeping noises. 

Computers running series of calculations. 

Or, you know, _scientists actually working_. 

This falls into the category of things that he doesn’t expect to see, though: Sheppard, sitting in the lab that Rodney’s been assigned to during their stay on Earth, _in the dark._ He doesn’t actually notice the other man until he turns on the light, but all of a sudden Sheppard’s there, slouched down in one of the chairs, and Rodney’s heart actually skips. He can feel it in his chest, the actual missed beat, and he says, " _Jesus_ , Sheppard." 

If this had happened back in Atlantis, if Sheppard had startled him like this there, Rodney’s pretty sure that he’d be hearing laughter right now. That the Major would be standing up from his chair, coming towards Rodney, laughing. 

That he’d be saying something like, "The look on your face right now. If only you could see it!" Which would, of course, give Rodney the opening he needs to snap back at him. To say something along the lines of, "Well, yes. Fuck you very much. Now if you don’t have anything better to do than take _five years off my life_ , I really have—" Which, in turn, would be the opening that Sheppard needed to get down to business, ask his favor of Rodney, the usual. 

This Sheppard isn’t laughing, though. 

In fact, he hasn’t moved at all. He’s still sitting slouched in the chair, legs kicked out in front of him, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and he’s _staring_ at Rodney, his gaze so heavy, so intent that Rodney feels the inexplicable urge to turn away. He doesn’t, of course, but for an instant he wants to. And _then_ Sheppard smiles. Not the wide smile that would have accompanied the laughter, but one that’s weak, cracking even as it forms. 

"Hey, McKay," he says and he sounds tired. Too tired. The same tired that they were all sounding after however many days it was of fighting off the Wraith. The same tired they should not be sounding now. 

"Sheppard," Rodney says, hoping that the Major takes that as the cue to explain _what the hell he’s doing in Rodney’s lab_ , but Sheppard just looks down at his chest, at his crossed arms, so it’s left to Rodney to get the conversation started. 

He says, "Care to tell me what, exactly, you’re doing in my lab? This is only our third day back, Major. You can’t possibly be bored already." 

And that should have gotten him a response of some sort—back in Atlantis it would have been a lazy grin. Now, though, Sheppard just _shrugs_ , looking off to the side, and if Rodney hadn’t already figured out that something was very, very wrong, that would have been the final clue needed. 

Sheppard doesn’t elaborate, though, so Rodney continues: "And while you’re at it, maybe you’d feel like explaining why you were sitting in said lab _in the dark_?" 

Which causes Sheppard to _shrug again_. But this time, at least, he speaks. He says, "I was most of the way across the room before I realized that the lights hadn’t come on." 

At that, Rodney pauses, because yes, he gets that. 

This morning, in fact, when Rodney had been leaving his hotel room to come to the SGC for another round of briefings and debriefings and other time consuming meetings, his feet had actually hit the base of the door before he’d realized that it wasn’t going to slide open for him. 

Which was not a funny little anecdote that he would be sharing with anyone, ever, thank you very much. 

"And it was too much work to go back ten feet and turn them on?" 

This time, Rodney’s expecting the shrug when it comes. 

He sighs, starts walking towards a second chair, and he’s half way there before he realizes that the door hasn’t closed behind him, and now he, too, is being forced to retrace his steps. He understands now why the Major didn’t bother. Thinks to himself that he probably wouldn’t bother either, except he and Sheppard are heading towards _some_ sort of conversation here, and Rodney thinks that it’s probably one that will benefit from having the door closed. 

Eight steps later, when he’s finally in the chair, he mimics Sheppard’s posture. Slouch, arms crossed over his chest, legs out in front, and he stares. Stares until the Major actually _does_ look away. Rodney lets himself have a blink of triumph, but then he starts to feel the slow creep of annoyance working its way up his spine again, because he’s been in meetings _all day_ and, really, he doesn’t have the patience to wait Sheppard out. 

He also knows that Sheppard knows this. 

Maybe, he thinks, that’s what Sheppard _wants._

He says, "Okay, _what_?" 

Back in Atlantis, Sheppard would have blinked innocently. Would have said, " _What?_ " right back at him, teasing. 

"Why are you here?" Rodney continues. "You aren’t actually going to make me _guess_ whatever the hell it is that’s going on in your head, are you, because quite frankly, I’ve got—" 

"Does this feel at all wrong to you?" Sheppard asks, finally interrupting him. 

And Rodney says, "Wrong? Wrong how? Like ‘aliens screwing with our heads and making us think that we’re really on Earth when we aren’t’ wrong? Or ‘the lights don’t turn on even when we’re home’ wrong." 

"The second," Sheppard says. "I mean, I spent, what, 35-odd years living here, using doorknobs and light switches and flying planes with my hands rather than with my mind. I mean, it’s only been a year; I should still be used to all of this, right? Elizabeth and Carson both seem to be and I haven’t noticed you having any problems, but I—" 

He trails off and all Rodney can do is stare at him. Sheppard’s face is as close to crumpled as Rodney is pretty sure he’s ever seen it. His eyes are bright and if pressed, Rodney might even say wet, so of course there’s something else going on here, there has to be, because they’re just on a temporary leave of absence from Atlantis. Just checking in, getting new personnel, eating a year’s worth of fast food, and then they’ll be on their way again. 

He’s not quite sure where Sheppard’s going with this, though, so he states the obvious: "You don’t have to adjust, not really. We’re going to be going back on the Daedelus in what, three weeks? A little less?" 

Sheppard looks away from him now. Says quietly, "But for how long?" and that, obviously is the root of the problem right there. 

The words act like a knife, cutting off anything that Rodney might have been preparing to say in response. He opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again and is fully aware that he is on the verge of spluttering, but he says, "Excuse me? What are you talking about?" 

And now he’s chuckling like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard in a month, because it’s either laugh or yell, but Sheppard is sitting still across from him, serious, and Rodney can see the color rising in his cheeks. 

"They don’t want me there, Rodney," Sheppard says, starting out softly but then his voice begins to rise. "They sent Everett there to replace me, Caldwell as his backup and now that Everett’s gone, Caldwell will get the base command. I’ll be reporting to him and—" 

He’s warming to his subject now, his fists clenching and unclenching on his thighs. 

"I can guarantee you that they’ve spent hours these last few weeks, locked away in some room, trying to figure out if it’s feasible to try to keep me from going back at all. Which I agree, okay, it’s not; I’ve got the gene going for me, at least, but I’d been _exiled to Antarctica_ and suddenly they find out I’ve been in control of their precious city practically since _day one_ and— And you know what? All it will take is one more smudge on my record, one order I don’t obey to the letter, and I’ll be stepping right back through the Gate. One excuse and—" 

"And your really need to shut up and listen now," Rodney says. 

He is fully prepared to get into a yelling match with Sheppard over this, to drown him out until he listens, damn it, but the Major says, "—and I’ll be stuck feeling like I don’t even belong in my own skin anymore _for the rest of my life_." 

Then he’s quiet. 

For another long moment, Rodney stares at him, lets those last words sink in, almost hoping Sheppard continues, because _that’s_ what Rodney wants to hear more about. That’s the direction he would choose to steer this conversation in under any other circumstances, because for Rodney, it’s like an itch at the back of his skull, something he can’t quite scratch, but for Sheppard, apparently, it’s more. Rodney starts to open his mouth, to ask, but he reminds himself that that’s not what Sheppard’s here to discuss. Not now. 

No, he’s here to listen to Rodney give him an encouraging speech, something that will convince Sheppard just how wrong he is, and Rodney can do that because obviously Sheppard is wrong, because— 

"Okay, a)," he says, "if you think Elizabeth would let them send you back to Earth without her approval, Major, you’ve got another think coming. And if you’re even contemplating saying that it wouldn’t be her decision to make, well, obviously you haven’t been working with the same woman that I have for the last year. Also, b) _in case you hadn’t noticed_ , we’re all still alive and I think that’s a pretty good recommendation for why they would want to keep you out there. I mean, between the two of us, we’ve saved the city, what. At least half a dozen times?" 

"Twice," Sheppard says, but Rodney bats the comment away, because obviously he’s just thinking about the big stuff, the Genii and the Wraith attacks. He’s obviously not counting the nanovirus, or the big black cloud of life-burning energy, or the, well, there were other times, too. 

"They know the city loves you, Sheppard," Rodney says. "They’d be stupid to try to pull you back to Earth where, what, you’d get to spend the rest of your career turning on Ancient toasters? And you’re an idiot for even thinking such things. In fact, I bet Elizabeth’s in there right now, telling them to do whatever they need to do to ensure that you remain in charge of our military. Because she didn’t want Everett there, that much was obvious, and I doubt she’s going to find Caldwell much more suitable and—" 

Then he pauses, one of those proverbial light bulbs flashing to life in his brain. 

"Wait, that’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you were hiding in my office in the dark. That’s where Elizabeth is right now, isn’t she? Meeting with Landry and Caldwell and whomever the other bigwigs are that need to be present to decide who’s going to be in charge." 

Rodney knows he’s right when he sees Sheppard look away. 

"So you decided to come share your completely unfounded, anxiety-produced panic attack with me. Thank you so much, Major. Next time I decide that I’m dying from an evil alien fern or something, you so do not get to complain." 

And _there’s_ the beginnings of the grin that Rodney’s been waiting for. It’s small, yes, just a twitch of the lips, but when added to the fact that Sheppard’s starting to look a little more relaxed, well, it’s something. 

It would have been more of something, though, if the door to his lab hadn’t opened in the next moment, an airman stepping in without so much as a knock. The kid’s hands are behind his back, his chin straight out as he says, "Major Sheppard, Sir. General Landry requests your presence in his office. If you’ll come with me, Sir?" 

Rodney glances at Sheppard again, sees that Sheppard is looking right back at him. Then Sheppard nods once and starts to stand. The trace of the smile is gone, the tension heavy in his shoulders again. 

"Later, Rodney," Sheppard says, and Rodney says, "Later." And also: "It _will_ be okay, Major." 

Again-- _again_ \--the Major shrugs, but all Rodney can do now is watch him leave, looking like he’s going to his execution. Looking like he’s just told Rodney _so long_ and those words have bad memories associated with them, obviously, which is why Rodney starts to feel the flutter of his own nerves. 

Because Sheppard is _wrong_ , of course, and Rodney _knows_ that it’ll be okay, knows Elizabeth, knows that Elizabeth wouldn’t let— 

"It’ll be fine," he says to himself, turning back to his desk, to his laptop, even if he doesn’t raise his fingers to the keyboard. "They’d be insane if they—"  
  

  


End


End file.
